


the sun is always blinding me with its light

by Morcai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, Grantaire Has Feelings, Grantaire drinks to avoid his feelings, M/M, Undefined Hogwarts AU, patroni are srs bsns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morcai/pseuds/Morcai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Grantaire has never produced a patronus, as far as anyone knows. He failed that unit of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and endured the whispers and the pity and the taunts.</i>
</p><p>Hogwarts AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun is always blinding me with its light

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://attackofthechewenod.tumblr.com/post/59165214025/a-harry-potter-crossover-where-grantaire-fails-a) by attackofthechewenod

Grantaire has never produced a patronus, as far as anyone knows. He failed that unit of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and endured the whispers and the pity and the taunts.

It’s hard to find the sort of happy memory that’s needed for the spell, especially for someone with as few happy memories and as cynical an outlook as Grantaire. For most of the unit, it was impossible. He tried, and failed, and watched as Combeferre’s patronus quickly took the form of a coyote, and Courfeyrac’s, a raven. Enjolras’ patronus took longer to settle fully into a corporeal form, but eventually a lean, elegant lioness burst from his wand and began to twine around him.

By the time they were finishing with patroni, Grantaire had given up on ever producing one, and was resigned to failing the unit. That was why, instead of paying any attention to the essay he was supposed to write for Defense, he was absently watching Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac converse.

He wasn’t close enough to hear what they said, but he heard when Enjolras burst into delighted laughter, and it drew his eyes like a magnet.

And there he was, head thrown back, golden hair falling in loose curls from the bun he’d messily tied it into. The expression on his face was entirely devoid of the usual sternness he wore like a cloak, and instead the corners of his eyes crinkled with joy, and the light from the fireplace played across the line of his throat and the curve of his jaw.

Grantaire fell in love.

Or maybe it was not so much that he fell in love as that he finally realized what he’d been ignoring for the last three years. He wanted, desperately, to walk over and kiss Enjolras until he knew what Enjolras’ laughter tasted like, to run his fingers through that golden hair, to make Enjolras laugh, to press bites and kisses to the column of his throat.

He didn’t so much as move, just sat in his corner and watched, essay forgotten. Turning the image of that moment over in his mind, examining the emotions it evoked, Grantaire sat, near motionless, for hours.

Finally, when the common room was finally devoid of people, Grantaire picked up the bottle of firewhiskey that’d been sitting by his chair and slipped out.

It didn’t take him long to find an abandoned classroom that would serve his purposes—there were a lot of unused rooms in Hogwarts, and he made it a hobby to find the ones least visited by amorous couples or prefects looking to catch students out after curfew. This particular room was small and set off a ways from the main corridors, but it would serve his purposes.

Setting the mostly-full bottle on one of the desks, he drew his wand from his picket, trying to remember what the professor had said about how to perform the spell.

He closed his eyes and called up the memory, Enjolras, beautiful and golden and laughing and the fierce joy of seeing that face and the overwhelming adoration he felt.

“ _Expecto patronum_ ,” Grantaire said quietly, and opened his eyes at the bloom of silver light.

The patronus that stood before him was terrifying. Quiet eyes looked at him, and the lion took two steps toward him and pressed its muzzle to his thigh.

Grantaire curled his fingers into the thick mane, trying to steady himself, and the lion dissolved with a soft sound into a thousand motes of silver light. After a second, he picked up the bottle and takes a deep drink. He needed it, with having finally produced a patronus, and, well, given it’s form, he thought it might be a miracle if he didn’t drink until he passed out.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes I'm on [tumblr](kinkyenjolras.tumblr.com)


End file.
